


Toil and Trouble is an Understatement

by TriffidsandCuckoos



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Dirk Gently Being Dirk Gently, Familiars, Gen, Gratuitous References to Witch Movies, Season/Series 01, Todd Brotzman is Bad at Feelings, Todd Brotzman's poor life choices, Witches, background cameos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27338545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriffidsandCuckoos/pseuds/TriffidsandCuckoos
Summary: Anything you put out in the world comes back tenfold. Every witch knows this. That's why Todd doesn't do magic anymore, just scraping by looking after Amanda and her visions. He really doesn't need the man who just fell through his window and keeps talking about familiars.
Relationships: Amanda Brotzman & Todd Brotzman, Todd Brotzman & Dirk Gently
Comments: 16
Kudos: 21
Collections: DGHDA Halloween Mini Bang 2020





	Toil and Trouble is an Understatement

**Author's Note:**

> This was _very_ loosely inspired by 'A Little Familiar', a novella by R. Cooper. Unfortunately I wrote roughly the first third in a rush after reading it, then didn't touch it for a while, so it's ended up rather far away from the original idea. 
> 
> Written for the DGHDA Halloween Mini Bang 2020. Massive thanks to [marizetta](https://marizetta.tumblr.com/) for her [gorgeous art](https://marizetta.tumblr.com/post/633639197950017537/hello-its-belated-halloween-dghdabigbang-day/) and [flightinflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame) for her boundless support.

\---

Todd's flat doesn’t look like a witch lives there. That's because every stereotype about witches is fucking bullshit. (Two exceptions: a ridiculous calendar of obligations dubbed 'festivities' and looking great in black.)

Of course, Todd's flat also doesn't look like a real witch lives there either. He doesn't cover the place in cobwebs or give his landlord a heart attack over bubbling cauldrons of dry ice, but there's also very little actually...living there. There's an altar packed away in a cardboard box under his bed, but he uses his athame to get into microwave meals. Some herbs on the side in the kitchen are fucking miserable even if they're not dead, squashed away in the corner of the counter and no good to anyone; he's got a silver bowl he dumps his keys in. Time was, he had a crystal from his grandmother that was supposedly great at absorbing negative energies, only maybe Todd wants the negative energies and also a girl he was dating thought it was pretty and he traded it for her make-up bag at a show. Wherever she is now, hopefully it's doing her some good. Or she's pawned it off, which he'd only mind because he should have done that first.

Todd doesn't drink tea because it's dead leaves in water and he doesn't cut the skin off of apples because who's got time for that (or access to apples, for that matter). If he doesn't look that closely at stars, it's because there's no point and Seattle's light pollution is frankly great. Why do you think he lives in the city?

If you believe even half the stories traded at the winter solstice, the Brotzmans as a family tend to have a knack for fortunetelling. That's cute, really. It comes in useful if you want to make a quick buck – or it did, before Todd's went all feral on him. Guess it didn't like him lying about how long people were going to live or their lovelines or whether they'd actually get everything they ever wanted. Now he knows it’ll either yell at him about his own mistakes or it’ll curl up and do fuck all. Todd knows he's an asshole and a fuck-up and there's no point in pretending otherwise, and once you know that about yourself why the fuck would you go asking for more details? Besides, for all those Tower cards and the like, he's making up for what he did wrong.

"I got you some more ingredients," he yells at his phone, transferring them from paper bags to the kind of basket Amanda might think makes a difference. "Rosemary, lavender, all the good stuff."

"Did you grow them?" Amanda's voice sounds tinny through the speaker, although that's not the only reason it never sounds right to him. Never mind all those rumours about witches and technology, which never made sense (also Todd has a career as a burnt-out former rockstar that says otherwise): Amanda hasn't sounded the same since her visions kicked in. Always drained, always dreading them, never full of life the way she used to be. Fuck, Todd misses when his sister could lay a curse on an ass-pinching perv without spilling her drink.

Todd's hands pause in their movements, and he casts a glance over at the dry and brown herbs in the kitchen as if that would somehow fix them. "No," he says. "They're not – You know herbs don't like cities, Amanda."

"I figured they like you well enough," she says, sullen. It's not aimed at him, he knows that, even though they should be. "Besides, how'd you make the potions when you needed them?"

"Same as you do," Todd lies. The recipe's adapted through what works on Amanda, and he's always said that's because everyone reacts differently with this stuff. Which is true, despite skipping over the small detail that Todd's never taken it. Half the variations are from that hangover cure he pushed to the fucking edge when not doing college.

"Just seems weird," Amanda says, which sends a chill down his spine. "You were great with this stuff before. Why would losing your visions change that too?"

Because he didn't lose his visions. He never had them in the first place. Never was the heir to that fun little family curse. "It's magic, Amanda. I don't have to explain it."

"Fuck you," she says, without any heat to it, good or bad. More like he's tried to bring one of his memories of her to life. That never goes well for anyone.

"Fuck you too." Todd lays the dishcloth over the top of the basket. "See you soon."

\---

The story goes that witches don't magic up money because it's bad mojo or whatever. Truth is, it just doesn't work. Not only is most of their magic in physical or mental things – mixing up potions not breaking the laws of physics – but any attempt at duplicating is always going to look way worse than even a slightly crappy money printing scheme. Hard to say exactly how people know it's wrong. It just feels off. Maybe you could get away with it when you could just wave around gold and tell people to fuck off, but that might also be why you get those stories about fairy gold, now Todd thinks about it.

You know what Todd uses his magic for, if ever? Stains in hotel rooms. Cleaning products with a dash of something extra. Once you've seen the messes some people leave, you know nobody deserves to deal with them manually. He does it when he has to clean his toilet since he doesn't haven't time for it, and occasionally he’ll throw some potion into the cleaning carts at work. Might as well see if he make some tiny inroads into all the bad shit he's put into the world. How many really tiny non-asshole deeds do you need before your magic starts agreeing to do something bigger again?

Also, even if he could pull off proper spells again (or be bothered to try), there's that small but kind of important detail where his little sister _has visions_. So far, it's the near-future. With any luck, it'll never go further back than the present. He just has to make sure he doesn't do anything too awful. Nothing that'll attract attention from the universe in a magical abuse sense, anyway. (Making distractions to steal back his rent from Dorian doesn't count.)

\---

Heading back from the Perryman Grand, Todd waves away a flock of pigeons taking way too close an interest and ignores a rat poking its head hopefully out of the gutter. He's really not in the mood today: a cat got into the penthouse, clawed up the place, then tried to claw _him_ , so his manager naturally assumed it belonged to him. The cat had started purring at that and the only reason Todd hadn't thrown it out the window was he really couldn't tell whether it would survive. That made it Todd's problem, and all Todd could do was stand there and hope the damages didn't come out of his wages. When he'd tried glaring at the cat, it had just opened up its mouth wide and showed off way too many teeth.

He'd dumped Jaws out in the back alley instead. The thing had still been sitting there expectantly an hour later, clearly incapable of taking a hint. The only bright side was that it seemed to have chased away any other cats who’d wandered up.

Witches are supposed to have familiars. They're supposed to _find_ familiars, which in a lot of cases means that the familiars find them. It works differently for everyone: sometimes it's more like a service animal, sometimes it bullies you into what you need to do to be better (he snorts to himself at that), sometimes it's actually helpful and brings you herbs and shit. One of the old coven leaders apparently had a bald eagle, although Todd finds that really fucking hard to believe. Also, that sounds like the least convenient familiar ever. Where would you even keep it?

Since moving to the city, Todd's been finding out all sorts about the kinds of animals you get around here. So much for escaping: there are birds _everywhere_ , and strays, and pets (which get super interesting when the owners figure you're stealing their beloved Rapunzel). Squirrels steal his lunch when he tells them to fuck off, and he doesn't even want to get started on the raccoons. Nothing scares Todd quite like raccoons, the vindictive bastards.

Jaws follows him right up until he has to run for the bus, and Todd's never been so glad that the driver takes so much petty glee in closing the doors at just the right moment that they clip his uniform. Maybe he's blessed.

\---

Most witch houses stink of herbs and incense, basically indistinguishable from a tacky new age shop. Todd and Amanda always used to joke that weed is a herb and a fucking aromatic one at that, so really they're just keeping the family traditions alive, and all that bullshit. Todd's apartment doesn't smell of herbs legal or illegal, though. Mostly it smells of failure, if failure came with a side of dirty laundry and old takeout. Actually, maybe that's exactly what failure smells like. And maybe that's why tonight, despite everything he thinks and feels and complains about, he's lit one single scented candle in the middle of the living room (with his petrol lighter, obviously) and is now waiting for his apartment to smell of – he squints at the box – cinnamon. He hasn't had a date in months, it feels like. The last girl only bothered coming back to give him this.

There's a bump at the window. He ignores it as usual.

Smells like Christmas threw up then set fire to the vomit. Does this count as offensive? Not that he’s given a shit about Yule since he was ten.

Another bump, louder this time.

Frowning, Todd looks up, ready to threaten a curse at whatever's flown into the glass today. Instead he finds himself yelling, high and sharp.

There's a man. A man halfway through Todd's window. Todd does not live on the first floor, there's no fire escape there because this place is a deathtrap with low rent, and there is a man halfway through Todd’s window. A man who doesn't even have a broomstick to hand.

"Hi," the man says, with all the confidence and charm of a telemarketer. Naturally Todd does what he always wishes he could do to telemarketers and throws a paperweight at him. He misses, which is probably just as well what with how Todd really doesn't need some sort of assault charge and also he realised only after he let go that the paperweight was actually a chalice. It bounces off the wall, taking out half the side table of trash on the way. Still, the man yells in a way that would be really satisfying if he didn't, in the course of yelling, fall _into_ Todd's apartment and knock over the other half of the trash and the side table to boot.

Todd seizes the guitar left abandoned by the door (in a position so anybody coming home with him will see it instantly) and wonders how best to bluff that he's willing to break it.

The man fucking whines. "Ow," he says, for good measure. "What sort of a welcome for guests is that?"

"I'm not welcoming you," Todd points out, brandishing his guitar. Maybe most witches would go for their wand, only Todd generally deals with normal humans, he hates Harry Potter jokes, and also he never bothered making one.

From his sprawl across Todd's floor, the man _pouts_ at him. "Well, now how is that supposed to make me feel? I don't know how you Americans do things, and I know you can be a little uncouth at the best of times, but that is _hardly_ the type of attitude I expect when I visit someone."

He says all of this without breathing. Todd could marvel at that, or he could just say, "You broke in through my window. That's not visiting."

"I entered into your abode in order to observe the person living there, who in fact turned out to be you. What is that if not visiting?" The man stands up, although that's too normal a phrase for the way all those limbs suddenly go from sprawling to upright. It's like watching an animated scarecrow with social anxiety. "Also, I wouldn't call it breaking in when you don't bother to lock your window."

"I did lock it."

"No, you didn't." The man takes a step towards the window in question and prods at it. Sure enough, it moves. "See?"

"Because you just came in through it!" Shifting the guitar so that he's only holding it in one hand, Todd heads over to look anyway. He's not exactly sure why.

"Exactly!" The man beams as Todd passes him. Todd ignores him, bracing himself on the window ledge as he peers out. The glass is intact; when he pulls the window back in, there's no damage to the lock. Either Todd's never locked it or the security here is even shittier than he thought.

"Oh, what are you having trouble with?"

Todd turns to see the man bend almost double over the scented candle, inhaling deeply. Then his ridiculously plastic face grimaces. "Right. Well," he glances over at Todd, radiating awkwardness, "yes, forget I said 'trouble'."

It takes Todd a moment to place that exact expression. Then he feels his face flaming as he flails with his guitar like he can just smack the assumption away. "No! Jesus, no, I'm not using it as a – " Why did it have to be cinnamon? "It's just the smell! And also it's none of your business, asshole," wait, that sounds too defensive, "and also, _no_!"

"Right." The man nods, slow and exaggerated as if that's what's going to stop Todd trying to kill him. "Yes, I understand." Abruptly he smiles again, ignoring any risks of giving his face whiplash. "Actually, that's rather good to hear. I feel like sometimes people get too hung up on the uses of these things – sometimes you can just like a smell, can't you?"

Call Todd slow – or stressed about the home invasion – but it's only faced by that blithe grin that he suddenly realises the significance of what's happening here. A man is standing in his apartment and his first assumption at seeing a scented candle was...to ask what Todd was having trouble with.

"Shit," Todd says, feeling all of his insides sinking in apprehension. "You're a witch too?"

"I'm a detective – a _holistic_ detective," the absolute nutjob tells him, as if Todd gives a fuck what kind of a detective he is so long as it doesn't sound like police. (Not that Todd has anything to hide. You don't have to have something to hide to not want the police falling in through your window.) "But given that I specialise in the interconnectedness of all things, emphasis being on 'all', that does include magic, so if you're asking whether you should be concerned about me revealing your religion or culture to the world, then _of course not_ , although if that's the case you probably shouldn't be using the word 'too'."

Obviously Todd isn't so blinded by the wall of words smacking him in the face that he thinks any of that is reassuring. Weirdly, though, he does feel better. This doesn't feel like a set-up – at least, not the kind Todd's wary of. "You're no-one official, then?"

Pouting, _again_. "Well, excuse me, but do I interrupt your job to tell you it's not valid?"

"You broke into my apartment," Todd says, because he's not exactly ready to let that one go. "I mean, like... You're not police, obviously – "

"I question 'obviously' – "

" – so you're what, a PI?" That conjures up images of moustaches and grizzled beards. This guy doesn't look like he's capable of growing either of those. "Or – shit, you're not, I don't know – "

"I'm not CIA anymore."

Todd blinks at him. The man blinks back.

"I wasn't going to say CIA." Honestly, he was going to say FBI. If nineties-era David Duchovny jumped through his window, Todd wouldn't still be talking.

"Well, good." The man nods as if something has been settled by this. "Because I'm not."

"Anymore." How is this still not the weirdest night of Todd's life? Serves him right for heading to those college coven mixers, he guesses.

"Mm-hmm," the man hums. It's only now that Todd registers that the way he's wandering around Todd's apartment is less 'distraction' and more 'nosy as fuck'. "Oh dear," he says, prodding at the plants in their varying stages of dying, "was it a curse? Still alive though, that's a very promising sign." Then he pulls open the nearest kitchen drawer, tilts his head, and takes out Todd's athame. "Oh, did you lose this? I find things are always in the last place I look, so it's a good thing for you that's where I started." He waves it in a very concerningly casual way towards the silver bowl with the keys Todd is possibly edging towards. "I must say, I'm very impressed by the practicality in your life. Things can always be other things, that's what I always say, when I'm not saying anything else."

For want of anything else to do – seriously, why did Todd decide it was better to spend money on a guitar than a wand – Todd finds himself muttering, "Thanks, I guess."

"You're very welcome." The man taps the athame on the countertop, which would be really annoying if Todd hadn't already written off his deposit several times over. "You know, it's very odd. Usually when I'm drawn to places I find a clue in ten seconds, tops. Here? Nothing." Frowning to himself, he rounds the countertop. Todd watches as he goes to peer at the pile of crap still piled up next to the window from the side table collapsing. "I mean, if there was something important in here, you would have thrown it at me. That goes without saying."

"Sure." Why not? "Hey, speaking of not saying, you do know you invaded my apartment ten minutes ago and you still haven't told me your name?"

"Really?" The man looks up from what Todd supposes could be called his 'investigation'. Too bad Todd isn’t feeling that charitable. "You can tell when it's been ten minutes? That's a very useful skill there, Todd."

"I don't – Hey." Todd narrows his eyes. "How do you know _my_ name?"

"Fundamental interconnectedness of the universe," the man says off-handedly. "Now, give me a second, I have it in here somewhere." He starts patting down his jacket, producing receipts, flower petals, several tarot cards, two playing cards, a card saying 'Mrs Bun the Baker's Wife' (that one skids a lot across the floor and Todd stares at it to try to limit the chaos in his life), and finally spilling business cards all around him in a fountain effect. "Aha!" he exclaims (Todd never thought real people did that, but to be fair he's not sure anymore whether he's dealing with a real person) and strides forward to hold out a rectangle of cream-colored stationery in front of Todd's eyes.

Todd looks at the words on the card, then looks at the man. "So, are you Dirk Gently, or is this a really convoluted way of telling me that's who you work for?"

The person who invaded Todd's apartment ten minutes ago and who is also responsible for way too much of the mess accumulated now deflates like a balloon that’s given up on life. " _I'm_ Dirk Gently," he says. Fuck, Todd hopes the pouting isn’t going to come back.

"Couldn't you have just, you know, said that?"

"I'm trying something new."

Todd looks at the card a bit longer. It doesn't offer up any useful advice. "Okay, so," he says, reading 'detective agency' over and over as if that will somehow convince him that there's a whole team of people willing to work with this guy, "you said there's nothing to see here?"

"So it would be seem," Dirk says with a nod. "Not that it isn't a lovely flat, obviously – no, sorry, I know this – a lovely _apartment_. You know how it is, speaking another language and all that."

Todd does not, and he also knows that this isn't a lovely apartment, the same way he knows he can never smell cinnamon again after this evening. "So are you, like...going to leave now?"

Dirk hums to himself. "I suppose? Honestly, this so rarely happens that I'm not really certain of the correct protocol."

Todd shakes away the sudden vivid Star Wars flashback. "Yeah, well, you broke in – jumped in, whatever – and there's nothing going on so..." Todd glances behind him. "There's a door?" Todd should be angrier, he knows this. He was super angry up until... He isn't sure exactly why he stopped. That seems like a mistake.

"There is a door," Dirk agrees. Todd shouldn't have made it a question. Something about Dirk suggests he really likes answering questions. "It's very nice."

"No, like... Do you want to use the door? Instead of the window, I mean. That feels – " Normal? "Safer."

"Pff," Dirk says. 'Pff' is not a word and yet Dirk definitely pronounces all three letters. "I laugh in the face of danger. Sometimes. Sometimes I scream, but that's besides the point, and I am not screaming right now."

Todd doesn't think it's some kind of personal failing that he has nothing to say in response to that. He doesn't think anyone would have anything to say to that – or, more accurately, he doesn’t think anyone _should_.

Dirk takes one last look around, as if a clue lurking between Todd's coffee-stained couch cushions was about to make a break for it. "It is a lovely apartment," he says, separating out the syllables as if that somehow makes the sentence true. "Where does your familiar live?"

Todd blinks. Okay, he hasn't seen most of this conversation coming, yet even by those low low standards that feels jolting. "My what?"

"Your familiar." Dirk is smiling very pleasantly, and for once it doesn't feel like someone is doing that because they're about to do something really terrible. "Are they out at the moment?"

"I don't..." _Think it's any of your business._ "I don't have a familiar."

Dirk's face, previously contorting merrily like one of those CGI glitch videos to follow every word, suddenly goes still. "I'm sorry?" he asks, his voice suddenly going up higher.

Todd shifts a little on the spot, vaguely aware that he's _still_ clinging to his guitar. "That's what I said," he mutters. It's such an old story, an old _problem_ , the fact that Todd's alone. He likes it like that – likes not having some animal to clean up after while they try to make him to do stuff he doesn't want to do. There’s a reason he dumped Jaws in the alley.

Sometimes he looks at Amanda and he can _tell_ that she's missing something. That hurts. He isn't like that.

Slowly, reluctantly, Todd drags his eyes back up from the floor to look at Dirk. Dirk's face is...doing something. Something weird that involves being really still and vaguely smiley and yet Todd's getting this weird psychic echo of screaming, even though they don't do empaths in his family.

"Are you...okay?"

Dirk blinks again, three times like it's some sort of system reboot. "Yes," he says, and, "perfectly," and then, "absolutely," followed by "good show" and "wonderful," before he nods and nods and nods, until Todd's alarm gets overridden by how much he wants to not be dealing with a breakdown if this guy is having one and he opens the door. Dirk is still nodding as he passes through it and down the corridor. Something tells Todd he'll still be nodding by the time he leaves the building, through whatever door or window appeals to him.

Todd looks around his apartment. His stuff is everywhere, scattered or splattered from where he threw it at Dirk. There's a bunch of shit from Dirk's pockets as well, a half-shredded tissue and a pen and a bunch of cards. Todd can still see Mrs Bun by his foot, but there's one of the normal playing cards lying facedown on the kitchen counter, another right where Dirk was standing, and Todd thinks he saw one of the tarot deck fly under the couch.

The card in the kitchen is the King of Hearts. The other one is the Ace. Todd assumes Dirk is smuggling around a Royal Flush, because that's what he would do if he could be bothered.

He considers just leaving the tarot card. As bastardised as tarot has been by pretty much everyone, there's still power in it, and after whatever the fuck that meeting was Todd is pretty leery of prodding at anything that might go spooky. He pokes around instead, tidying up by shoving the scattered bits into brand new piles, blowing out the candle and instantly regretting it when the smell hits him full in the face, and generally acts like there isn't a fucking time bomb under his couch.

He doesn't want to look. He really doesn't want to look.

He brushes his teeth. He gets ready for bed. Both of these are way more deliberate than he's done them in years. He even flosses, for fuck's sake.

When he steps out of the bathroom, his eyes go straight to the card, and it's like some elastic inside of him snaps. He marches over there and grabs the fucking thing and flips it over.

The World. Inverted. Lack of closure.

Todd mutters to himself, even though he knows there's nobody around to hear him, "No fucking shit."

\---

Of course it would be lying to say that Todd doesn't think about the guy who climbed in his window and tried to drown him in words. When he tells Amanda over the phone at lunch that he's mostly forgotten about it, he's trying to indicate that he is the sort of person these cool things happen to all the time. Somehow it seems like the sort of 'wacky hijinks' he would've gotten up to when he was still pretending to practice. (Christ, 'wacky hijinks', he can hear it in Dirk's voice and he's fairly certain Dirk didn't use either word, he just seems the sort of perky British asshole who would.)

"Dude, this has to be like, destiny, right?" Amanda says, which is at least an improvement from her squealing. Todd gets it: her powers keep her trapped in the house in case she makes a connection. However, that doesn't make living vicariously through _him_ a great choice. "It sounds like destiny."

"It's not. Really," Todd insists yet again, chugging his discount offbrand fizzing soft drink and trying not to gag. "He's just some crazy asshole who jumped in my window. My fault for not locking it."

"Right, because that's always what happens when you leave windows unlocked." Call it a wild hunch, but Todd doesn't think Amanda believes him. "Come on, tell me you didn't do just a little incense for it."

Todd thinks of the fucking cinnamon and really wishes he hadn't. Fuck, he wishes Christmas hadn't made him forget what that actually meant. "What kind of 'good vibes' attract passing weirdos?"

"The good vibes that attract soulmates, obviously!"

"Amanda, I thought we agreed that _Practical Magic_ is not a documentary."

"Terrible film, though."

Todd makes a vague noise for Amanda to interpret as agreement. Honestly, he didn’t think it was that bad. It definitely didn't deserve all that backlash from the covens calling it an insult to their faith. (Then again, they said the same thing about _The Craft_ , and pretty much everything else involving humans writing about Wicca in the nineties, and then they got Harry Potter and everyone agreed to hate that instead.) Him and Amanda used to watch it as kids because you weren't supposed to, and also it had Sandra Bullock in it. Todd used to like the whole soulmate idea, although not so much the idea of dying if you married into the wrong family. Or the love potions. That part was gross.

"Anyway, you're dodging the question," Amanda says, reminding Todd that he lives in the present and there's no Sandra Bullock or Nicole Kidman out there for him. He's literally sitting in an alley eating the saddest sandwich he's ever seen, wearing a bellhop uniform that can be seen from space. "Come on, didn't you have the smallest peek? Just to check?"

"You know I don't – " Todd hesitates "I don't get visions. Anymore."

"Yeah, I know," Amanda says. Todd really wishes that was enough to put her off, but apparently she needs excitement in her life that badly. "But other stuff is fine, right? I'm not talking about scrying, but getting some apple seeds or doing a tarot reading or – "

"I don't do that shit!"

Instantly Todd regrets saying it, even before he registers the silence at the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, Todd," Amanda says, much quieter this time, all her enthusiasm gone.

"No," Todd says, a little desperately but fuck it, he has no shame, "no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped like that."

"It's okay," Amanda says, her voice so small. "I get that it's – I could...try? Maybe," he can hear the way she's shaking, "maybe if I just tried, for me – it's not like it's a vision of you then and – "

"No," Todd says, as gently as he can possibly manage, just to make her stop. "No, it's not worth you hurting yourself. And this is – He's nothing, okay, no big deal. No reason you'd see him." Amanda mutters something, nothing coherent. Todd can feel his heart aching.

"Hey, what if I come over later?" he asks in a burst of terrible ideas. Fortunately Amanda can’t see him wincing at the thought of the bus fare and whatever curse Dorian's put on his car this time.

Amanda swallows audibly. "I mean, I don't want to be a bother..."

Shit. Okay, this is fine, he probably have like...water tomorrow, or something. "No, it's fine. I want to see you." Which is true, one hundred per cent, obviously. "I have a half day," he lies, apparently not having caused enough trouble for himself. It's the off-season, maybe he can spin some excuse. If he can only get a couple of extra hours, he can just tell Amanda they wanted him to stay late. Or something. Shit, he hates lying to her but he can already hear his brain doing it.

"You didn't say," Amanda says. "Won't you have plans?"

"Yeah, you, obviously," Todd says. Fuck, he's an asshole.

"Well, okay then." That's what makes it. Hearing something like sunshine coming back into his sister's voice. "You know what, I had some big social plans – like, _huge_ – but you're my brother. I can totally cancel."

"Man, One Direction are going to be pissed," Todd says, feeling the lameness of his own patheticness in his bones.

"Dude, they broke up, even I know that. Loser."

"Asshole," Todd says softly, so she knows she can hang up on him.

He's left staring down at his phone. The rainwater is starting to soak through his shoes. There's a crack in the top left of his screen, and he should probably do something about that.

A pointed _meow_ sounds by his feet. Slowly his eyes drift from his phone to the kitten sitting next to him, big dark eyes staring up at him.

"You don't want anything to do with me," he says.

The kitten meows again, showing way too many teeth for a baby animal that isn't some sort of piranha. Don't cats eat soft food too? Todd's never been a cat person, despite his dad's familiar, but that still seems weird. "Shoo." Vaguely he waves his foot towards it, with no force whatsoever. The kitten looks at his leg, and then digs its claws in.

Obviously Todd can fight off a kitten if he wants to. Problem is, it's a _kitten_. People see you kicking a kitten, they don't think you're a badass, they think you're a serial killer. 

\---

After lunch, Jaws won’t leave him the fuck alone. Worse, he gets a little old lady in the foyer _cooing_ over him. The only good thing about the asshole clawing his leg to pieces is that Todd’s manager either hates looking at him (plausible) or takes pity on him (less plausible) and lets him off early to 'do something about your acquisition'. He clearly still thinks Todd owns the fucking thing, which, fine, let him think that, why not. Apparently nobody else wants to own it, or it wouldn't be here, slicing up Todd's trousers. 

Todd has regularly fantasised about setting fire to his uniform as part of a ritual that would bring the Perriman crashing down in a heap of rubble (like he even has that kind of power solo, and ignoring how he's already living in fear of karma smacking him in the face). That doesn't mean he appreciates a ball of furry hate doing it while he's still wearing it.

Jaws bites at his ankles as he hits the bottom of the steps leading up to the hotel. It's a really underhanded move and Todd reckons he's justified in yelling because he knows what his Achilles tendon is and he doesn't have anywhere near the grasp of healing magic to fix something like that. He's also justified in leaping away from those fucking teeth, even if it is into the road. That means that when a car bumps into him – there's a screech of brakes but momentum hates Todd as much as most other things do – that makes the driver the bad guy for hitting him.

Figuring he doesn't have any dignity left, Todd lets himself fall to the ground. It’s definitely a choice, really. Hell, maybe he'll get lucky for once and a generous billionaire will be so overcome by guilt for lightly knocking him over that they shower him with money.

"Todd?"

For fuck's sake.

"Todd! Do you know, I thought it might be you?"

Todd rolls over on the tarmac to glare up at Dirk Gently, who has opened up the sunroof of his car and is leaning out of it like some sort of gangly boneless person-thing. It's a pretty nice car and that's very surprising. Also, Dirk is standing on the car seat, and while Todd knows nothing about cars beyond 'shiny' he's fairly certain that makes him a terrible person. "You hit me on purpose?"

"What? No, absolutely not. I had no idea it was you." Dirk nods in a way that might have been meant encouragingly, only any positive effects are undermined by the way he keep on going like a nodding dog.

Todd sits up, still processing what the _fuck_ is happening. "So you hit _someone_ on purpose?"

"Technically the car hit someone," Dirk says with absolute confidence and no contrition whatsoever. "I was an unwilling participant. If anything, I was a victim in the whole thing."

"That doesn't make any sense," Todd says, for all that’ll make any difference. He pushes himself to his feet, revealing to him the line of cars building up behind Dirk. Some guy further back calls Dirk a word that Todd didn't think people even considered an insult anymore. "Well, I'm fine, I guess." He is, and he's a bit disappointed about it. Obviously he can't afford any hospital fees, but he'd like something to show for the blow to his ego.

"You certainly look like a person who is fine," Dirk says. It isn't reassuring in the slightest, despite all the smiling. Given the amount of car horns sounding off behind him without making a difference, that smile must have some serious surgical strengthening behind it. Todd's fairly sure you can curse people to smile like that.

Todd's thinking about why you would curse Dirk Gently with that specifically – he gets the cursing, just not why you'd bring the uncanny smiling into it – when Jaws bites him again, this time leaping up to sink its asshole teeth into Todd's hand. Todd, reasonably, yells out, insults its mom, and grabs it with his other hand so he can maybe not lose a finger. "I swear to _God_ , what is your problem?" he's spitting, staggering to the side of the road, when he thinks to look up at Dirk again.

Dirk is still standing up in his car. He's also looking at Todd with a really strange expression on his face, the grin gone and replaced by an out-of-place frown and weirdly pursed lips. It's striking enough that it takes Todd a moment to realise that Dirk isn't actually looking at him. He's looking at Jaws.

Oh, of course. Of fucking course. "Is this your cat?" Todd demands. "Is this why you broke into my apartment?"

"I've never seen that cat before in my life," Dirk says. Todd realises he’s made a mistake because he cannot tell if Dirk is lying. "Or maybe I have, that is how little impact it made on me. It is an utterly forgettable cat." He shifts slightly as Todd looks at him. "How long have you two been together?" he asks, his voice going higher than necessary at the end.

"What?" Todd asks, reasonably. "No, we're not – This isn't my cat." He holds it out towards Dirk, as if that proves anything. Jaws hisses and wriggles. "It won't leave me alone."

"Right." Dirk is still frowning, still shifting in place. A car near the back of the line pulls out with a squeal of brakes to overtake them all, and then there are multiple lines of traffic building on a road that can barely take the usual two. A car horn symphony forces Dirk to shout, "Listen, do you want a lift?"

Todd looks at what has somehow ended up as four lines of cars all swearing at each other. "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Of course it's a good idea. All of my ideas are good ones, even the ones where we're still waiting on their positive consequences." Dirk taps on the car roof. "Come on, get in."

"I'm not getting in a car with you." Or doing anything with him, frankly. "Besides, I have to..." As he hefts Jaws in one hand, he trails off. Has to…what, exactly? Go by the shelter? Head to the bus stop? "Wait." 

He needs to save money. The bus fare out to the suburbs isn't cheap, the walk takes forever, and (Todd's thoughts are accelerating, much like the bike that cuts past him on the sidewalk rather than risk the road) more to the point, Dirk doesn't seem the type to ask for money for gas. Hell, he doesn't seem the type to know what gas _is_. Also, Todd has a lot of experience in changing the subject enough times to get out of it. "I – You're serious?"

"Deadly." Dirk says it with such sudden gravitas that Todd freezes. "Or possibly not deadly. What's the good version of deadly?" There’s a whole monologue threatening, up until Todd takes a step forwards, when he breaks off to shake his head. "Not with that."

Todd stops and looks down at it. It snarls at him. "You allergic?"

"No idea. Probably best not to risk it." And Dirk drops down into the car before Todd can push the point.

Despite being an asshole, Todd knows it isn’t exactly nice to put a stray kitten back on the street. Then again, he reasons, Jaws seems to be doing just fine, and Amanda's what matters. Glancing around, with the vague sense that even if he isn't being watched, he probably should be, he lowers it onto the wall fronting the Perriman's entrance. Jaws hisses and tries to take a chunk of Todd's flesh for the road. Suddenly, Todd doesn't feel so bad about leaving it.

"Okay, but," Todd says, once he figures out exactly how some overpaid car architect decided the people of the future would open a goddamn car door and get in, "we need to go by the Ridgely first."

"The where?" Dirk asks, surprisingly politely.

Less politely, Todd openly stares at him. "You literally broke in there last night." When Dirk's face doesn't change, he says, "It's where I live."

"And why do you need to be going there 'first'? 'First' implies a great many things, or possibly just two things, and I don't know – "

"I have to get changed," Todd says, unable to listen anymore. "And if you're serious about giving me a lift, then I'd like to go out to see my sister. I'll tell you the way."

"Does that seem like a good idea?" Dirk asks, eyebrows raised. "After all, you claim I broke into your apartment last night – "

"You _did_ "

" – and now you're going to tell me where your sister lives?" Dirk shrugs. "You're surprisingly fast to trust people. Honestly, it's quite a relief. Usually I have to get through way more screaming and death threats before this point."

Todd considers the sheer number of things in that he could pick apart. The list is staggering. "I'm not – " he starts, before realising "Were you trying – " and finally settling on "Is it usually you or the other person screaming?"

"An excellent question," Dirk says. He pulls away from the kerb without answering.

\---

Amanda lives out in the suburbs of Seattle. It's honestly kind of ridiculous, that sentence, the more that Todd thinks about it. After all, it's _Amanda_. His curse-spitting beer-chugging punk rock little sister. Okay, yeah, now she's basically housebound by her visions but that doesn't make a lifetime surrounded by chintzy furniture and smiling old folks inevitable.

Of course, what made it inevitable was Todd. He's just a great brother like that.

"She moved in when our grandmother died," he tells Dirk. He's not really sure why he's telling Dirk. "She wanted to move out to Seattle because I was out here – " great call there " – and the plan was always to do the place up, for us or maybe to sell it to some family with too much money so we could get a decent apartment together."

"Couldn't you still move out here?" Dirk asks.

Todd sighs, slumping against the car door. Outside it's just identical houses and cookie-cutter trees. There used to be a coven out here, but they kept aging up and their kids kept moving out. The last few upped sticks a year or so ago and left to follow family. Covens are important but that's nothing compared with family, and it's not that unusual for witches to move around if their family need them to. Amanda and him had used to fantasise about setting up their own coven in Seattle, mostly punk music and all-night rituals. A whole bunch of cities had their own witch scene, and they were going to bring that to the north-west.

"I have to work," Todd says, "and the bus fare in and out – I haven't found a job yet that'd cover it and leave enough left over." Also the part where, as much as he loves his sister, every time he looks at her he thinks about how much he's screwed her over.

Dirk nods, although Todd doesn't think for a moment that he actually gets it. Nevertheless, when Todd tells him to pull over, the car jerks to a halt with only a small amount of whiplash and so Todd doesn't follow through on some of the fantasies he had on the drive about cursing it or Dirk so that they never travel together on the road again. Assuming Todd still can curse anything: he's never managed to get anything to stick to Dorian.

"Well, thanks," Todd says. He starts to say "I'll see you around" automatically, but luckily catches himself in time. Yes, it's nice to talk to someone who isn't a hotel guest or wanting money from him. That doesn't change the fact that Dirk is a complete stranger who Todd wants nothing to do with. "Just. Thanks." 

He slams the door behind him in case Dirk starts getting any ideas.

\--- 

As much as Todd hates giving Dirk any credit, he did have a good point about telling him where Amanda lives. Instead they parked a couple of streets away. As Todd marches along, hands deep in his pockets, there's a low rumble in the sky and he mutters, "Fuck." 

The rain's just starting to spatter down as Amanda's house comes into view, forcing him to run the last few steps to her door.

"Funny how you didn't bring an umbrella," Dirk says next to him, and Todd screams.

After a moment, Dirk shakes his head slightly from side to side. "Okay, interesting pitch, well done."

"What the /hell/?" Todd asks, reasonably. "Why are you still following me?"

"It was boring in the car," Dirk says, "and also I don't know where I am."

The heavens opening offers a staticky background noise to Todd’s own confusion. "You drove us out here. Can't you just...go back the same way?"

Dirk huffs a sigh, as if _Todd_ is somehow the one with ridiculous questions. "I don't have _superpowers_ , Todd. What makes you think I have any idea how to do that?"

_You exist in the world, somehow,_ Todd wants to say, as well as _That is not my problem_ and _I don't have superpowers, I'm a witch_. However, he never gets to find out which one he says first, because at that point Amanda opens the door and Todd is stuck on the porch with a fucking maniac.

"Todd! And, um, another person!" Surprisingly, Amanda smiles at Dirk, when really Todd would support her wholeheartedly in screaming and slamming the door. The smiling feels like it would just encourage Dirk, and sure enough, he's grinning right back at her. It makes Todd’s stomach do…something.

"Yes, that's me, another person. That is certainly a very positive way of describing me, and I may add it to my business cards."

"What's your business?" Amanda asks, apparently completely unaware of how much she does not want to get caught up in this.

"I'm a detective – a _holistic_ detective, as in – "

"The fundamental interconnectedness of all things," they both say in unison.

Dirk blinks. Amanda's eyes go wide and she says, "Whoa."

"How did...?" Todd looks back and forth between them. "Wait, have you guys met?" He's not sure why, but that rankles. Probably because that means Amanda has already had to put up with this shit. Maybe that's why Dirk fell through his window? Except that doesn't explain anything. Why would Dirk have been looking for Amanda?

Amanda shakes her head, not looking away from Dirk. "Never," she says, somehow smiling brighter than before. "Holy _shit_ , dude, I totally had a vision with you in it! That bit was real!"

"I am a real person, who is also another person," Dirk declares enthusiastically. "Just to be clear, though, when you say you had 'a vision', do you mean you looked out of the window or through some sort of elaborate viewing device or – "

Todd cuts him off. He doesn't know what would be worse: Dirk guessing correctly or making Amanda feel like a freak in her own skin. "She sees the future. That's what she means." He wants to touch her shoulder, do something to comfort her or ground her, but it's never quite clear what sets her off and, well, there might also be some selfish reasons which he is definitely not following. "You have a trip? What happened?"

Just like that, Amanda isn't smiling anymore. Todd takes a moment to wish he could make Dirk vanish, or at least lose his voice or something. "Just a small one," she says. "Earlier today, but, like, you already said you were heading over and, you know, I didn't want to bother you?" She has her hands jammed firmly in the pocket of her hoodie, and for some reason her gaze flickers over Todd's shoulder. He turns to look, seeing nothing except the empty street.

"You want me to make you some tea?" Todd asks. He's got a pack of herbs from the fancy shop near the Ridgely in his pocket, although he doesn't wave them about since they're still standing on the porch and even in the pouring rain he doesn't trust suburbia not to think he's a pot dealer.

Dirk heaves a sigh of relief. " _Finally_."

\---

Todd has absolutely no idea how Dirk is in Amanda's house. Unlike the whole breaking-and-entering thing, he thinks this might be partly his fault. How could he have known, though? Why would he assume that Dirk has all the independence of a lost puppy? (There's an uncomfortable itch at that thought.)

"That's an awful lot of bird feeders," Dirk observes, standing staring out of the back window. "Do you owe the birds tribute? Are you trying to appease them in a great avian war?"

Amanda snorts. Todd decides not to yell from the kitchen that Dirk isn't kidding. "No, I just get a lot of birds showing up. I don't really go outside, so it only seems fair to give them something to eat if I do."

"And why is that?" Dirk asks. Somehow Todd manages not to grab the kettle from the stove and throw it at him.

"My...visions," Amanda says, and, sure enough, she's gone quieter again. "They're messy and they can hit whenever and they...hurt."

"A lot," Todd interjects, leaning through the gap between doorways. "They run in our family. Your body gets confused about what's real, so it feels like you're getting ripped between futures."

"Todd got better though," Amanda says. "So I just have to wait."

Dirk tilts his head to one side. "So Todd saw the future?"

_Shit_. Todd grabs the kettle to dump the hot water over the weird brown tea Dirk found at the back of the kitchen cupboard, then charges out to shove the mug at him. "I don't see the future," he snaps, ignoring Dirk's yelp. "Amanda does. That's what matters."

"When I can tell what's real," Amanda says. She seems weirdly entertained by watching them. "Todd never got visions of the family, and some of mine – They don't make any sense. Which, you know, doesn't exactly make me feel better." She laughs, with an edge of swallowing a scream, and taps the side of her head the way she always does. "I saw you, and Todd, and I thought for sure you were made up."

"I wish he was made up," Todd mutters, heading back to the kitchen.

"That's still incredibly impressive though," he hears Dirk saying. "A really remarkable gift."

"And yet, still shitty," Amanda tells him.

"Well, obviously. Most gifts are. I find there can be few things worse than someone who thinks they're giving you a good gift when really it's just a bit shit." A pause, then, "For example, this tea is absolutely awful."

"I can hear you, asshole!" Todd shouts, watching Amanda's tea steeping with one eye on the timer next to it.

"Really, terribly awful," Dirk repeats. So much for British politeness. "So, where's your familiar then?"

"My what?" Amanda sounds stunned.

"Well, a power like yours, that attracts familiars," Dirk says, as if he knows anything whatsoever about it. "The birds are part of it, I assume. Also I noticed the food bowls by your door."

Todd frowns at the timer. That's the second time Dirk's brought up familiars that way. Sure, if you've met witches before, you've probably met familiars, that makes sense. There's something about how he says it, though. It sounds innocent enough, only – as much as he hates it – Todd's starting to get the impression that when Dirk _sounds_ innocent, it means he's actually being...wary? No, that word doesn't fit the disaster talking to his sister out in the lounge. Dirk doesn't act like he’s once been careful in his life. 

"I don't have one," Amanda is saying, and Todd peers out from the kitchen to discover that, yes, he did accurately guess what Dirk's face would be doing on hearing that. That weird 'I have never had an expression in my life ever' thing. What's the deal with that? "I mean, yeah, I get birds and cats and all coming by, but – They're supposed to click, right? They're supposed to...feel like you've been waiting for them the whole time. Like they fill up the empty parts of you, and make the rest of you make sense."

Her voice starts out normal enough, but as she keeps on talking, it goes weirdly soft, almost dreamy. Her face goes strange too, her eyes fixing on a point over Dirk's shoulder, except Todd doesn't think she's actually seeing the crappy wallpaper. Her fingers twitch, just a little bit, almost like she's drumming.

Todd doesn't like it at all. For a moment – more than a moment – Amanda doesn't look or sound like his baby sister. The woman sitting there, on their grandparents’ overstuffed couch: she’s a real seer. She’s every seer you hear about in legends or patronising stories from the older coven members. She’s the most solid thing in the room – in the universe, maybe.

With a screeching beep, the timer goes off. Todd all but lunges for the tea. He's a little surprised to realise the smell of it is stronger than he expected – he'd been under the impression they were fairly old herbs, that was why he'd got them so cheap. Still, he's not complaining. Carefully he pours out a cup and brings it through, with a lot more care than he gave Dirk's.

He can practically hear the snapping sound as Amanda remembers where she, who she's with. She blushes, or rather she does that shoulder hunching thing that means pretty much the same thing, and cups her hands around the mug, the sleeves of her hoody protecting her from burns. "Sorry. Like I said, it's all a bit weird."

Dirk's tilting his head, looking at Amanda way too intently for Todd's liking. "Had any new visitors lately?" he asks, and wow, for someone who claims to be a detective he doesn't sound subtle at all. Todd's too stunned by how shitty he is at his self-declared ‘job’ to object.

Amanda curls up on the sofa, tucking her legs in closer. "I mean. There was a lady selling samples yesterday? Or if you mean the animals, um, there was a squirrel I didn't recognise, or I guess that owl is new..."

Holy shit. 

Holy shit, Amanda knows what Dirk is talking about. Todd looks back and fortth between the two of them, not sure who to direct his panic at, just knowing that his heart is beating faster every second this goes on. How does he not know about this? How does _Dirk_ know about this?

Dirk's mouth twists to the side and he leans forwards, his tea abandoned on the coffee table. "Anything new in the neighbourhood, perhaps?"

Amanda's breath catches. "I – " Her fingers flex around her mug. Todd realises he's leaning forward as well, the same amount as Dirk. "There was this...van, outside? It's been there a couple of times, the last two days, and yesterday – "

Abruptly Dirk stands up. No, that's too neat a word for what he does. All of Dirk’s stupid overlong limbs go ramrod straight and just like that he's upright, staring down at Amanda. Todd flinches back before he can stop himself.

"I have to go," Dirk announces, his eyes weirdly wide. "That's – I should go, I shouldn't be here – _very_ nice meeting you, though, Amanda, you're definitely my favourite of Todd's sisters that I've met who have visions, best of luck to you, really, I hope it all works out, even if you should really throw out those teabags, you're _wonderful_ – "

The whole time he's talking, Dirk is backing out of the lounge and down the hall, somehow never turning around, as if the moment he looks away something terrible will happen. Surprisingly, Todd knows the feeling: he only manages to spare a glance at Amanda, who looks about as confused as he feels, before he finds his attention dragged back. He rises up from his chair to follow, more involuntarily than anything else. He doesn't know what the fuck he's witnessing; he hopes it isn't terminal.

" – anyway, bye!"

The front door slams shut, leaving Todd staring at the wood for answers.

It takes him a few minutes to realise that he no longer has a ride home.

\---

Todd's days off are not the relaxing days of cleansing rituals and vegging out they used to be, back when every day was a day off. (That's a lie, in part: Todd never did the cleansing rituals, unless the girl he was trying to get with was on a health kick, and even then it was with one eye open.) Any day he's not at the Perryman, he's looking for odd jobs, usually for people looking for someone who won't ask too many questions. Todd doesn't really have any friends; he _does_ , however, have a reputation for not having many moral qualms that he still can’t shake, so that's a thing. That...sure is a thing.

'Moral qualms'. Dirk left him stranded in the suburbs two days ago. What the fuck is he doing in Todd's head?

This time, though, the favor's fallen through, which is especially shitty when Todd's the one doing the favor (a favor for money, it still totally counts). That's left Todd stomping down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets and enjoying the gratification his boots bring in their last days before they fall apart. He'd do another refresh on them but, well, his magic is way too shitty to do it six times running.

Then again, his athame was looking clean and almost shiny for the first time in years yesterday. Todd didn't do that. Is it a full moon? Maybe the Ridgely is on some sort of pseudo-leyline or something and he just never left it in the right spot. Maybe it's worth a shot rather than trying to find some second-hand men's boots in his size. The alternative is that somehow Amanda's strong enough these days to pass magic to him, just in a really specific way that only works in his own apartment. 

Whatever. It's not like magic makes sense.

As he's thinking this, Todd looks up from the sidewalk, glancing sideways into the cafe he's passing, and he sees Dirk.

Before, Todd had no idea that you could actually stop mid-step outside of cartoons. Now, he registers his reflection, battered boot hanging in the air.

This is impossible. This is – It's really really improbable. Extremely unlikely. The chances are so small. This makes blue moons look common. This –

There's a woman sitting opposite Dirk at the table. A really unfairly hot woman, despite her proximity to Dirk and therefore her poor life choices. Unlike Dirk, who’s mid-sentence as always, she is looking straight at Todd. In sheer panic, Todd just starts waving his hands, not in a friendly way or even a magic spell way (he wishes it were that easy), more ‘please in the name of God or the Goddess or any religions you believe in don't tell him I'm here’.

The woman points. Dirk turns to look. The sight of his stupid face contorting into genuine surprise would be really satisfying, if not for Todd’s reflection making rabbits in the headlights look calm and refined. The two of them stare at each other in mutual shock and alarm, time stretching out seemingly indefinitely.

Unfortunately, their little moment puts paid to Todd's plan to make a break for it. The woman with Dirk clicks her fingers in front of his face a few times, before standing up and heading for the café door, and it's only when he hears the 'ding' of the bell and “Hey!” that Todd realises just how the next minute is going to go down.

Sure enough, he soon finds himself inside the cafe. He isn't sure how. It has something to do with the woman, who's introduced herself as Farah with a subtext of 'if you are a threat I will shoot you' in the way she shook his hand and guided him back into the cafe. "Dirk," she announces, "you didn't tell me you knew people in Seattle. Other people, I mean."

"Oh, you know," Dirk says, which are nonsense filler words if Todd's ever heard them. "I wouldn't say I _know_ Todd – except for how I do, because we've met before, twice, unexpectedly. Really, he's more of a surprise encounter, albeit one I've now had...three times," his fingers flex on the table as if he seriously needs to count, "so I guess that makes him an acquaintance? We have become acquainted. Mostly when I met his sister. Who I know even less!" Dirk holds up his hands. "Really, I am innocent in this whole affair!"

"What affair?" Farah asks, at the same time that Todd says, "You hit me with your car, asshole!"

"Just the once," Dirk insists, "and really, you shouldn't have been in the road, all the road code traffic rules say so."

Frowning, Todd asks, "Do you even have a driver's licence?"

"It might be best not to answer that," Farah interrupts. "For plausible deniability on my part, if nothing else."

Looking again, Farah has the panicked aura of someone wanting to look like they have it together, and Todd doesn't even read auras. He says, "Is it still plausible if we're all really certain he doesn't?"

"I'm not certain," Dirk says, "and I feel that my opinion counts for more in this matter."

"Setting that aside," Farah says, her voice steady, which more than anything else makes it clear she's known Dirk for a while because you can _hear_ her trying really hard to keep a grip on her train of thought, "Todd, how do you know Dirk?"

"We don't really know each other," Dirk repeats, with even more of that weird laugh in his voice. Todd can't help shooting him a look of disbelief. At least Dirk has the decency to only smile a bit before dropping the whole thing and looking away. That – That is a very strange thing.

Slowly, Todd says, "He climbed in through my window two nights ago. And yesterday he hit me with his car and then gave me a ride to the suburbs and then left me there."

Farah hesitates. "Okay."

"I come off very badly in that series of events," Dirk says, not lying, "but you should know that there is a logical explanation for everything I have ever done ever. That's my thing: logic." And he points at himself with two thumbs, not even bothering to do the 'two thumbs' line, making it a weird gesture rather than just lame.

Somehow, Farah does not share Todd's disbelief at Dirk's general behaviour. Instead she motions for Todd to sit, across from her and besides Dirk. Todd opens his mouth to object, except then she motions harder and Todd finds himself crammed in next to a British daddy-long-legs taking up most of the booth seat.

"Okay, Dirk," she says in that same steady overly-patient voice, as she clasps her hands in front of her and moves her mouth into a smile that makes Todd want to confess to anything just to make her stop, "at a debrief, you realise it is necessary to go over the entire case?"

"That's what I was doing right now, in this moment," Dirk tells her, pointing at the table.

Farah gestures at the two mugs between them, as well as a plate of crumbs in an alarming shade of pink. "I know that. But, um, you didn't mention Todd?" Now she gestures at Todd, who feels like he's somehow been relegated to the same category as former cupcakes. "Doesn't the fact you went through his window make him a lead?"

"Excuse me?" Todd asks, as Dirk starts saying, "Well, the the thing is," before Todd insists, "No, excuse me?"

"That's...his thing," Farah says. She's frowning now, and it comes off as a lot more confused than Todd expected. "You – He didn't mention it? His... He's a holistic detective. You're seriously telling me he never once mentioned it?"

Todd remembers bitching about business cards and a mess left on his floor. He also has a hideous flashback to _Dirk_ talking to _his sister_. "It...might have come up? A little?" he adds, when Farah keeps on staring at him. "I mean, yeah, he’s said it, a lot, but he didn't say what it meant or anything."

Farah looks at him, and then looks at Dirk, and then back at Todd, and then back at Dirk, every time very deliberately and as if she's about to speak. "Dirk?" she finally says, sounding a little choked.

"Look, okay, so obviously everything is connected – that's my thing," Dirk says to Todd, "everything and nothing and also some things are connected – but that doesn't necessarily mean that every little thing is connected, right?"

Todd blinks. Dirk's voice is doing that high-pitched thing again. "Are you...lying?"

"No," Dirk says, which to be fair is the only answer anyone ever gives to that question. "Why, are you?"

"I haven't said anything," Todd says. It isn't quite true but he's really hoping that Dirk won't –

"You have said several things." Damn it. "Although I suppose lies can be tricky to get into questions, those tend to be more misunderstandings in my experience. Unless this is a witch thing?"

Todd splutters. "What the _fuck_?"

"You're a witch?" Farah asks.

Glaring at Dirk, who is blinking at him as if pretending to be a doll can absolve him of all his sins, Todd says, "It's not what it sounds like."

"It sounds like you have at least one connection with the case." Farah inhales deeply, visibly settling herself as she pushes her hands down in the air. Again, Todd isn't usually a very intuitive guy, and yet he can see the way she's calming herself in the air around her. "My boss – Dirk's client – is Patrick Spring. He's a witch, too."

Todd glances at Dirk. Dirk takes an interest in one of the mugs in front of him, chokes on nothing as soon as he looks inside, and then hastily grabs the mug in front of Farah so quickly a bit of coffee splashes out and onto his sleeve. Seizing a napkin, he attacks the stain while muttering, "Stupid traitor coffee."

Okay. So Dirk is...the same as usual. Todd focuses on Farah. "Like, a coven witch?" Something echoes at the back of his mind, from laughing with Amanda at the old message boards with the posts from old grannies who thought people would like to know the 'real magic' in rhubarb. "Wait, the Spring family? Those witches?" When Farah nods, he naturally asks, "Are you a witch too?"

"Me? No. No no no," Farah goes on, shaking her head until Todd thinks he should maybe feel a little insulted. "No, I – My family – I don't have magical _skills_ , exactly. I assist Patrick – Mr Spring – well, I assisted him with more...human matters. Not like that!" she exclaims, as Todd tries not to react. "More... The Springs are a very powerful magical family, but sometimes they need someone more..." Her mouth twists.

"Human?" Todd suggests, since she already used that word. He regrets it when her shoulders sink. "I mean, non-witch-y?"

"Right." She still doesn't look all that happy. "At the moment, they need more...'non-witch-y' help."

"There's a case," Dirk interjects.

Farah sighs. "Yes," she says through gritted teeth, "but you don't have to announce it all the time."

"I do, actually," Dirk says. "It's very exciting. Also, very fun to say. There's just something about the word 'case'." He does something Todd regrettably recognises as a very rudimentary jazz hand.

Todd glances from Dirk, gazing off into the distance (Todd just manages not to turn to look), to Farah, who's picking at her nails and then abruptly lays her hands flat on the table. "So, um. If you two are working together...?" He raises his eyebrows and Farah shuts her eyes tightly, but nods. 

Right. There’s something that never actually got answered. Todd turns to Dirk and demands, "Seriously, are you a witch?"

Dirk's eyes snap back to reality. His jazz hand hangs in the air awkwardly, as if he isn't sure whether to put it down or pretend nothing is happening. He bites at his lip, clenches his fingers into a fist then out again, and finally exhales all at once. "Of course not," he says, with such a fake smile that it makes Todd's eyes hurt. "Whatever would give you that idea?"

"I, er." Quickly Todd sneaks a glance at Farah, hoping for some indication of what the fuck he just stepped in. He gets nothing. "It's just, you talking about connections, and you know about witches, and you were talking about familiars – " This time Todd stops himself, given Dirk has done some sort of full body jolt in his seat.

"Dirk?" Farah asks, sounding extremely alarmed.

As much as Todd thinks Dirk is kind of an asshole who keeps interrupting his life, he's still pretty freaked out to see him go this pale. He's not even British pale anymore, more like a ghost. "Are you okay?" When there’s no reply, Todd tries Farah instead. "Is he okay?"

"That might be a more complicated answer than you're looking for," Farah says carefully, eyeing Dirk in the same way Todd imagines she would eye a bomb with a ten-second countdown. "Dirk?" she prompts, and when Dirk makes an odd noise mimicking a disconnected TV, she tells Todd, "It isn't really my place to say."

"Say what?" Todd thinks he's actually being really calm about this, considering the fucking novel he’s missed between the lines. "I just asked whether he's a witch – which I asked before, by the way, and he just sidestepped the whole thing, including why he was jumping in through my window – "

"You know about familiars, right?" Farah asks. "I mean, from the looks of things and also from the look of Dirk you don't have one, but you must know about them."

"Obviously." Todd can feel whatever witch cred he had left circling the drain if she has to check.

"And they come in all sorts of forms. Lydia doesn't have one yet – that might have made things easier, actually," she adds in a mutter, " – but Patrick Spring definitely does – did – and he is not the standard cat or owl."

"What is he?"

"A rhino," Farah says, unfairly matter-of-fact. "His name's Pepe."

Todd has so many questions and no idea how to ask them. "How did he find a rhino?"

Farah drums her fingers on the table. "It's more like Pepe found him. Familiars do that, usually."

"But they also have lives," Dirk suddenly interjects, "they don't just spring into being the moment a witch meets them, that would be ridiculous, and also very impractical in some cases given that most witches don't seem to want a chick or a kitten, no matter how cute, because they're not _useful_ , and really what's the point of a familiar if they're not _useful_?" Every time he says 'useful', his voice twists into something bitter that Todd decides he doesn't like at all. "It doesn't matter whether they're _useful_ on their own. That's not the point."

Todd sits there, feeling like he stepped in something without going anywhere. "Um. Okay?" Nobody fills the quiet. "So you...care about familiars. Is this like, um," shit, what would it even be like "a whole...animal rights thing?" That sounds dumb as shit but then Todd really doesn't have any other ideas. "Are you protesting familiars or something?"

"You don't have to say anything," Farah says. Her hand is twitching, like she sort of wants to pat Dirk but also wants to curl up into a ball and hide. "That's – That's okay. Really."

Todd holds up his hands. "You know what? I'm cool with that. You invited me in here; Dirk's the one who keep showing up in my life when I never asked for it; I have nothing to do with any of this!" He stands up, fighting the urge to try to shake Farah's hand like this is an interview or something. 

Quietly, Dirk says, "I'm a familiar."

Todd blinks. After a moment he realises he's smiling, even though there's nothing actually funny about it. "No, you're not."

"Yes," Dirk says, still in that quiet voice, turning his head to look Todd right in the eye, "I am."

Suddenly, just like that, Todd's very aware of Dirk's eyes, of Dirk’s _gaze_ , stronger and more solid than he ever has for anyone else. Todd's been told enough times that his eyes are pretty striking – that's why he used to pile up the eyeliner like there was no tomorrow – but he's never had that sense himself before, about somebody else's. The colour isn't as vivid as his own, maybe, more a mix between blue and green. Still, there's this weird spark to them, electric. More to the point, as they look at each other, it's like everything else vanishes. They're at least a foot apart and yet Dirk's eyes feel like the only real thing here.

In a rush of panic, Todd blinks, shaking his head and clearing his throat. He must look like he's having some kind of fit (like Amanda). He can handle that, though. What he can't handle is whatever fucked up romance novel just hijacked his brain.

"Human familiars aren't real," Todd tells the window behind Dirk's shoulder. That doesn't work as well as he hoped: he can still see that shoulder slump.

However, Dirk at least sounds more like himself when he says, "Maybe you're not real. Not a nice feeling, is it? Not existing. Makes you a bit of a contradiction in the laws of physics, doesn't it?"

Lamely, Todd says, "You're a contradiction in the laws of physics."

Rather than leave Dirk vulnerable to that zinger, Farah takes this chance to intercede. "It's true, Todd. I know it sounds ridiculous – believe me, _I know_ – but human familiars are real. Dirk's one – the only one I've met personally, but not the only one I've heard of."

Todd scoffs, mostly because he feels like he should. "Okay. Sure." 

Every witch has heard _stories_ about human familiars; about witches whose perfect partner is another person, exactly in alignment, a closer bond than love or family. Supposedly, human familiars can ground the greatest magic; guide you anywhere; give power to even the most mortal witch. They’re a fucking fairytale. It's something made up so kids can imagine familiars in terms they can understand. 

"Let's say that's true," Todd says, crossing his arms, "why the hell would you be a detective? How the fuck does that make any sense?"

Dirk’s face looks calm. His hand clenches on the table. "I am a detective. I'm a great detective, working on a case."

"Uh huh," Todd says, "sure." It keeps refusing to make sense – like there are two images in front of him, Dirk and a human familiar, and it's also a magic eye picture and also one of those shitty old 3D comics without the glasses. "But, like, even if you _were_ a familiar – " he continues despite Dirk opening his mouth to protest " – why would you be a detective? Wouldn't you be, I don't know, a nurse? And for that matter," he goes on, uncovering a rich vein of stereotypes in his mind, "I thought human familiars were supposed to be women? And shouldn't you be married? Or - um." He cuts himself off before the whole sex thing can come up, only unfortunately in his head it already did and he hopes neither Dirk or Farah can read minds. That would suck while also being just Todd's luck. "Point is, you shouldn't exist. As you."

Dirk says, “And yet, here I am.” 

Todd clenches his fists, determined not to look away first. Dirk’s jaw firms.

Farah says, a little too calmly and too steadily, "The fact is that I am working on a case with Dirk, for which he was hired as a detective. A murder case."

Todd blinks, looking at her before he realises that means he lost. "Wait, like, a for real murder? With a victim and everything?"

Dirk perks up a bit at the mention of murder. "The victim is actually the point: it's a murder case, where we're trying to find the murderer on behalf of the murdered – the murderee, if you will."

Todd will not. "You mean, like...necromancy?"

"Nothing so hard to spell," Dirk says. Todd's doesn’t think 'necromancy' counts as particularly difficult to write, unless that’s a witch thing.

Farah sighs. "It's a curse, really. Literally. Someone put a curse on Lydia Spring, who went missing shortly before her father Patrick Spring was murdered in unusually supernatural circumstances."

"What's” Todd keeps his hands at his sides, refusing to do the quotation marks in the air the way he knows Dirk would in a heartbeat “'unusually supernatural' for witches?" He turns towards Dirk. "Is that why you're involved? Is it...a familiar thing?"

Dirk's face twitches, although it's Farah who answers. "We don't know what kind of thing it is. That's why we're investigating."

"Okay," Todd says, although this sounds like the exact opposite of okay. It also sounds like something where he should be signing papers, or taking oaths under the light of the full moon invoking True Names, if he's hearing even this much. "Okay, I – I shouldn't be here. This sounds super serious. This has nothing to do with me."

"Well, that's the thing," Farah says. "If Dirk went through your window, you're a part of this." 

Dirk makes an odd stretched out 'enh' sound, tilting his head from side to side. "I mean, _technically_ , yes, that is how it works, but then again 'technically' doesn't mean what it used to. 'Technically' I should only be finding clues now I'm part of the case, and equally 'technically' I don't have money, but then again 'technically' this cafe isn't a part of the case either, and _actually_ I looked around your apartment and there was nothing in there except you." Dirk raises his eyebrows as if this solves everything, before taking a sip from the mug in his hand with little finger extended and radiating an attempt at confidence. Then he chokes, spluttering as he puts the mug back down. "Also, I think I’ve been poisoned."

Farah tells him, "That was my coffee." 

Todd exhales. Presumably he should be relieved to hear that there was nothing in his apartment 'except' him. Still sounds an awful lot like an insult. "Yeah, well," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the tarot card, "you did leave something there, so, here." He tosses it onto the table, accidentally making it spin as it slides along the linoleum. "I don't do that crap, by the way – the cards or anything else you happen to be carrying around on you. If you're looking for a witch, then look somewhere else." 

Dirk studiously ignores the card that's facing towards him, inverted (or, as Todd would put it, _upside-down_ , not everything is a fucking reading). Farah definitely does look at it, frowning. "There must be a reason, though," she's saying, "if this keeps happening. You said Dirk left this in your apartment?"

"He dropped it," Todd says.

"By accident," Dirk insists. "All a complete accident – the card, the apartment, the unattached witch – "

"Whoa, wait," Todd says, raising a hand, "what difference does that make?" If anything, it sort of stings, hearing someone who's claiming to be a familiar pointing out how he doesn't have one. "So I don't have a familiar. You don't have a witch, I don't see why you get to judge. And for that matter," he goes on, that small sting building up now into a nicely familiar fog of retaliation, "how come you don't have one? And what does that have to do with how it's somehow okay to break into people's apartments? And stalk them, for that matter, which, why would you follow me out to my sister's place if I'm not – "

Amanda.

There's no conscious thought framing it; her name cuts through everything, blaringly bright and undeniable.

"What is it?" Farah asks.

Todd realises he's pointing at Dirk – pointing and trembling. "Oh no. No, you don't. You're not. You are definitely not."

Dirk swallows. "Okay, Todd, take a breath, just because you're a witch – "

"I'm normal enough," Todd snaps, "it doesn't matter. I don't – I'm _fine_ , but if you're seriously – "

His phone buzzes, guitars and screaming drowning out Todd's voice and sending whatever his point was going to be out of his head. 

Shit, he knows whose ringtone that is. No way that's a coincidence. 

"Just," he says, snatching his phone out of his pocket, "just stay away from us!" And he storms out of the cafe.

\---

Turns out, the whole time Todd's been listening to whatever the fuck that scene was in there, Amanda's been messaging him. It's not that unusual for her to get bored and text about pretty much anything that comes into her head – he's read some pretty extensive theories about the witch-written romance novels their grandma apparently kept under the bed, along with stories about every single bird, cat, or dog that comes into her orbit. That's why he tells himself he isn't a bad person for not always checking his phone straight away if it buzzes. Problem is, he got distracted, and as he waits for his call to Amanda to connect, he can see just how many messages he missed.

"Dude! You okay?"

Todd splutters a little. "Am I okay? Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah, totally. Sorry about all that."

Somehow Todd stops himself from shrieking 'all what', instead taking his phone away from his ear to frantically scroll through his inbox. It starts off normal, with something about a really fat squirrel in the yard. Then it gets, well, much worse.

**SHIT**

**TODD**

**TODD SHIT**

**FUHKKD**

Nothing for about twenty minutes after that. It must have kicked off right about when he spotted Dirk, fuck. Amanda sounds calm over the phone though, so – wait. She sounds the opposite of calm.

"Dude, you would _not_ believe the day I'm having!"

She sounds...excited? But not scared, or with that weird manic undercurrent. She sounds like herself.

The last few messages:

**Sorry about that**

**It's fine now**

**Hey can you call me**

**Todd**

**TODD**

**TODD**

At which point she'd apparently called him. Which, obviously Todd loves hearing from his sister. They call each other every day. It just seems weird, the way this is turning out.

Todd asks, "What’s wrong?" 

"Nothing! Dude, that's what I'm trying to say! I feel great! I totally forgot what that feels like!"

Todd frowns, lowering his voice as he glances around. "Are you like...on something?" Something besides weed, and he hopes Amanda knows that. It'd be a pretty bad day if a Brotzman sibling started getting on their high horse about, well, getting high and talking about horses. Also, weed's a downer, that's the whole fucking point. Amanda can't get excited like this. "Listen, Amanda, just take some deep breaths, it'll be okay."

"Todd! You're not listening to me!" She doesn't sound angry though. From her voice, it sounds more like she's trying not to laugh. Also, Todd had assumed the noise he's trying to block out was coming from the cars next to him, except he just glanced up and there's just mopeds. It's coming from his phone. "I have to ask you something!"

"Are you outside?" Todd wonders how plausible it would be to run to Amanda's house, or the hospital, or wherever she's ended up. "Shit, are you in an ambulance?"

"Fuck no, I'm not made of money!" And Amanda cackles – a proper witch cackle, the kind she used to love letting out at any excuse. It's been so fucking long since Todd heard it. "Everything is great. I'm great. Todd, I had a fucking _vision_ , and I'm _fine_!"

Todd stops, right there on the sidewalk. Somebody pushes around him with a extremely unsubtle curse (of the swearing kind, probably). She never talks about her visions like that: like they’re nothing; like she isn't shaking herself to pieces in her room – or in the ambulance. "Amanda, where are you? Just say, I can get there." He'd rather swallow one of those college keg potions than go back to ask Dirk for a lift – no way he's letting him near Amanda again – but maybe Farah?

"Todd, I don't need you to come get me. I'm not a kid, I'm _fine_." Every time Amanda says she's fine, Todd’s heart beats a little faster. "Listen, is Dirk there?"

Todd doesn't have tinnitus. Todd knows this, despite the whining flatline sound in his ears.

"Todd?"

"What," Todd says. Apparently he hasn't dropped his phone or thrown it against a wall. That must be true because it's still in his hand. He can still hear Amanda. 

He can't have heard her right.

"Dude, seriously, are you okay?"

"Do you seriously want to talk to _Dirk_?" Todd chokes.

"If he's there?" Amanda asks. "No big deal if he isn't, just call when he is."

"'When' he is?" Todd repeats in disbelief. "Why would he be here? Or anywhere near me?"

Something muffled sounds from the other end of the line and Amanda goes quiet, although Todd swears it sounds like she's talking to someone else. Amanda doesn't know anyone else: talking to strangers sets her off. Except for Dirk, unless it was a whole delayed thing. "Amanda? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, sure, sorry," Amanda says, not sounding sorry at all. "Look, I know you always said you didn't get visions of me or Mom or Dad, I get that, but dude, I _swear_ I keep seeing you."

Todd’s mouth runs dry. "Of course you are," he says, hoping his fake laugh somehow contorts into something more genuine through the phone. "It's like dreams, you just...use what you know for the gaps."

"Yeah, I know, but I _swear_ I just saw Dirk with you!"

Todd pinches the bridge of his nose. "You've met Dirk too, and he's the kind of person who really imprints on you, trust me." Then he winces at the reminder of what Dirk might be trying to do. "Also, Amanda, you can't trust that guy."

"Why not?" How can she ask that? There’s no way she didn’t sense the sheer palpable annoyingness of Dirk within a nanosecond of meeting him. "Also, I saw him _before_ I met him. He isn't family, so there must be something I should know about him."

Oh fuck. Oh no. "He's a lunatic, that's all you need to know." Also, a familiar. A human familiar. Fuckfuckfuck.

Someone is definitely shouting in the background at Amanda's end. Several someones. "Maybe _you_ need to know it?" she says. "Todd, I know it doesn't make sense, but this is the clearest shit I've ever seen, and there was definitely Dirk there, and you were shouting at him, and then you guys were like – " She makes a noise Todd can't work out right away, until he pictures Amanda with wide eyes and miming her mind being blown.

Something's snapped loose in Todd's world. He can feel it starting to unravel, or maybe it's more like an elastic band, or just a fucking Jenga tower. He doesn't know. Suddenly, it feels more important than anything else to hold on to the phone. "Amanda. I don't know where you are, but if you're not headed to the hospital, please say you're headed home."

Amanda's silent for a moment. He knows that she's silent and it isn't that she didn't hear him. Then she asks, "Why won't you listen to me about this?"

"Because – " Fuck. He can't say it. If he says it, she'll know about the whole familiar thing and this nightmare is never going to end. "Because I'm worried about you, and I don't trust Dirk. At all." He swallows. "So, are you headed home?"

After a pause, Amanda says, "Yeah," and she almost sounds sullen.

"Great. I'll see you there. I love – " 

She hangs up on him.

He looks at his phone in disbelief. On the screen is a picture of Amanda: before the visions, before this all went so fucking wrong, back when Todd was just an asshole and the consequences hadn't started piling on yet. She's doing what she used to call her 'Hollywood witch pose', head lowered with her eyes locked on the camera. She's his little sister.

Fuck, maybe he can walk out there. At least it isn't raining.

\---

Standing in the store, Todd stares at the arrangement of candy in front of him. Shit, he'd barely even realised it was October. Usually, this close to Halloween, he'd have all sort of people breathing down his neck about Samhain – Amanda, for sure, but also their parents, their old coven, witches from college, all sorts if you just knew where to look. The realisation that it's sneaked up on him leaves him surprisingly hollow (like when Dirk first asked about familiars) (like that time Todd doesn't give a fuck about). Fuck, he misses getting drunk at revels, the witch kind and the human kind. Last year him and Amanda did their usual movie night, full of terrible 'but WITCH movie?' jokes. He assumes they'll be doing it again. Somehow it sits a lot heavier in his stomach, that thought.

To drown it out, he says out loud, "Is this you trying to be subtle?"

Dirk replies, "Is it working?"

Todd leans very slightly to the side. He didn't really have to, since the skeleton in the aisle really isn't doing anything to hide Dirk's elbows or technicolor jacket, but it makes a point and it also makes Dirk look even more ridiculous, trying to match the plastic figure's pose. "You're not subtle, Dirk."

"Well, you have to admit I'm trying," Dirk says. "It's hardly my fault you insist on lurking in such inconvenient stake-out territory. There aren’t even any bushes.”

"Are you admitting to following me this time?" Todd demands. "Or is this another one of your spooky coincidences?" He tries to load up 'spooky' with all the disdain he can, which is really a lot, except all of it still bounces off Dirk's stupid smiling face.

"Strictly speaking," Dirk says, his voice low and weirdly confidential, "as the witch here, _you're_ the spooky one – in as far as there is a 'spooky' person present, which I have yet to witness since so far you've mostly just been incredibly rude and not at all spooky."

Todd's hands tighten around the handle of his basket with wishful thinking. "When have I ever been the rude one?"

"Well, that tone of voice, for starters," Dirk says, his own tone the kind that sounds like it's supposed to come with its own 'snap snap' as a backing track. "Also, you are never happy to see me, ever, and I find that offensive because I am a _delight_ to be around."

"That isn't even remotely true," Todd tells him.

Dirk holds up a finger. "I always maintain an optimistic outlook," he says. He holds up another finger. "I look excellent in most clothing, tartan excepted." A third finger. "I am an _excellent_ detective - "

"You are barely a detective."

"Aha!" Dirk points at Todd, as if he somehow lost the person standing right in front of him. "So you admit I'm a detective. This is very good progress, Todd."

"I don't want to be making progress, you asshole," Todd says, not in the mood for anything fancy here. "I want you to leave me alone. I want you to leave my family alone."

"Now that's – Your family?" Dirk pulls back a little, frowning. "Why would I be following your family?"

That's basically a confession. "Amanda is doing fine without you." Okay, exaggeration, especially with the way she’d gone all quiet on him the other day. "There's no way you would make her life any easier, so, whatever you want with her, you're not getting it, understand?"

Dirk looks behind him, seeming surprised to find there aren't any other ridiculous gangly curses stalking Todd through shitty convenience stores. "I wasn't aware I wanted anything to do with Amanda? I mean, she's _great_ , obviously, and I wouldn't mind meeting her again – "

"Over my fucking dead body!"

"Okay." Dirk schools his face into what he presumably thinks isn't threatening. Todd has never wanted to punch a face so badly in his life.

"Look, if you're here to balance her out, fine, fine, I get it, just stop bothering me – and, also, you aren't even _close_ to being good enough for her, so don't you fucking dare!"

Dirk purses his lips. Eventually he says, "I'm confused."

Todd isn't stupid. Todd knows he isn't stupid. Todd isn't stupid so he's fucking offended that Dirk is even trying to act like he can somehow distract Todd and convince him to drop this. No way. Todd's onto him now. "I get it now, asshole. It makes sense! You jumped in through my window just so you could meet Amanda!"

Dirk's eyebrows raise. "Oh. Oh, that's really – "

"Farah said you would only be there for a reason, and you said yourself you found nothing!"

"That's not exactly true – "

"No, no, shut up, silence!" Okay, so maybe Todd has been fantasising about confronting Dirk about this, and maybe this isn't going the way he'd envisioned (if nothing else, this is way less articulate), but he is doing this, God damn it. "Why else would you run into me again? You _literally ran into me_ so you'd meet Amanda! And now you're, what, you're stalking me because you need encouraging? Do you seriously think I'm going to wingman you into being my little sister's familiar? Do you honestly think I'd trust someone like _you_ with her?"

"Todd." Dirk's face has gone weirdly calm again, like it did when Todd told he wasn't a familiar. It's funny, now that Todd thinks about it, how quickly he's turned about on that one. He guesses that's what happens when you suddenly see the big picture. "I assure you, I have absolutely no interest in your sister, or any other witches that you might happen to meet. I have no intention of becoming any witch's familiar, for the very reasons that you outlined yesterday!" Todd hesitates, trying to remember what exactly he'd said yesterday. Mostly he remembers trying _not_ to say ‘sex’. "This is the problem, it's always the problem. Everyone assumes familiars need witches – because of course, why would we want to be anything else? Well, we don't. We're just people."

"'Just' people?" Todd asks.

"The same way you are. You told me that you're ‘normal enough’ – although I'm not sure what you think you're enough for." 

Todd opens his mouth. Unfortunately, all that comes out is what's left of that punch to the gut. It's like he can't breathe. If he collapsed right here in the store (Amanda used to whenever she had an attack, it’s why she doesn’t go out), he wonders whether Dirk would just stand there. It occurs to Todd that if their positions were reversed, he might just watch Dirk lying on the floor. Fuck.

"Look, just," Todd tries to take a breath, shallower than he'd like, "my magic is fucked, but Amanda _needs_ a familiar, okay? That's all. For her visions." That doesn't mean he wants Dirk and her being official but, well, maybe Dirk can help her. A little bit. God, just thinking about it makes him feel ill.

Dirk twitches a bit, presumably about the 'needs' part. Todd doesn't care. "You used to manage on your own."

"Yeah, well..."

Shit. Todd doesn't have a follow-up to that. Dirk is looking at him, way too intently, with that increasingly smug air of someone who knows they've scored a hit. He sure as fuck has – just not in the way he thinks.

God, what he wouldn't give for someone to call either of them right now. Even Dorian. Even Amanda calling Dirk. Hell, if someone came over and complained about them arguing in the candy aisle, he'd take it and he'd probably end up kissing them. Anything would be better than this.

"Look, just drop it, okay?" Todd says.

Of course, Dirk does exactly the opposite. "You have visions – well, used to have them. Presumably you still have access to all manner of fortune-telling paraphernalia. I don't know why you expect me to explain anything."

Todd remembers all the tea leaves he’s ignored; all the Tower cards he’s drawn. All the karma his magic threatens at any moment. "And just... We're talking about Amanda, okay?"

Reluctantly, Dirk nods. Todd knows it's reluctantly because he's never been this aware before of someone's head going through the process – the exact mechanics of nodding in slow-motion. "You're trying to set me up with your sister."

Behind him, Todd hears someone go, "Oof," so he spins around to level his accusatory finger at a random stranger rather than Dirk. "That is not what I'm doing!"

Said stranger stares at Todd's finger, a little wide-eyed. Dirk doesn't help by saying, "It's sort of what he's doing," as if this stranger is now a legitimate part of the conversation. Also, Todd's just clocked the police badge and the fact the stranger suddenly has an older buddy with impressive eyebrows and his own badge very very obviously displayed.

"Is everything all right here?" the first stranger asks, eyes now narrowing. "Because it looks like you guys might be having some trouble."

"Some might say a fair bit of trouble," his partner (?) adds.

"A fair bit of trouble, yeah," the stranger agrees.

"Wouldn't want any trouble around here."

"That would be a problem."

"Especially near Halloween."

"All sorts of nutjobs come out of the woodwork then."

"Like witchy woodlice."

At this point, Todd figures he'll cut his losses. No, he doesn't have proof that these guys actually have any idea about real witches, but he does know that cops don't like him (the feeling's pretty mutual, he just doesn't have a gun to back him up). Sure, it'll look suspicious. That doesn't stop him dropping his basket of exactly two pieces of candy and leaving.

Too late, he realises that he could have just left normally and not done this fast walk that makes him look like this is his first shoplifting. Fuck, now the cops are definitely going to take an interest. Todd hopes that something will stop them; will distract them; will somehow turn back time because wow, his thoughts are not moving right.

There are crashes sounding from behind him. Maybe the cops aren't that graceful. Doesn't matter: Todd just heads for the exit, the door practically opening before he even touches it with how much he just wants everything gone.

\---

No matter how fast Todd tries to stomp away, Dirk keeps pace. "You could've gotten me arrested."

"Really?" Dirk sounds intrigued by the idea. "It looked to me like they were the ones with the problem – well, them and also you. Interesting tactic, charging off and emptying the shelves behind you. Does that usually work out for you? Is that a standard approach to de-escalation in your coven?"

Somehow Todd doubts that Dirk even knows what de-escalation is. "I don't have a coven," he says. "Or, yeah, I do, but it's my parents'. It's not the same thing."

"Ah, I see," Dirk says, quite clearly conveying that he doesn't see at all. "Funny to see the future and be on your own though."

Todd flinches. "Look, she headed out here before she got them, okay? Then she got stuck."

"I was talking about you."

Todd comes to a halt on the sidewalk. Dirk smiles at him, and Todd really wants to read something sinister into it but the stupid shitty neon lights in the shop windows telling everyone that it's Halloween soon and they should buy something are really undermining the moment.

Right. There was a reason he was over-reacting – or _reacting_ , he corrects himself in his own head.

"Is there a reason you always assume I'm talking about Amanda?" Dirk asks. "Because you should know she isn't my type, and also I resent the implication that any familiar has to be searching for a witch, and also she's – I believe the appropriate word would be 'taken'?"

Todd says, "Wait, what?"

"Um." Dirk swallows, suddenly seeming to regret a great many things all at once. "Well, that is." He takes a deep breath. "If you must know, when I was talking to her, she sounded rather like she'd already been interacting rather closely with familiars. Now, I don't know whether it's 'official' yet, but – "

"You mean the birds?" Todd asks, incredulous. "They're always hanging around! That doesn't mean anything!"

"I thought more," and here Dirk's mouth twists, "well, I thought it sounded like she might have met some people like me. Not like me!" he quickly adds, and Todd has no idea what his face is doing but clearly it's enough to make Dirk panic. "Definitely not like me – they're extremely rude, and _uncouth_ , and frankly all four of them could stand to learn some manners – "

"'Four'?" Todd echoes, the only solid detail he thinks he can process. "Dirk, witches have one familiar. That's it."

"Usually, yes, that might be the case. Unfortunately, they move in more of a…pack, I suppose."

"Dirk, you are not making me feel any better." Todd already has his phone out, although for the life of him he can't think of how to phrase 'are you being terrorised by multiple Dirks' that doesn't make him sound kind of insane.

"Granted, I never had the best experience with them, but then the CIA was never all that interested in us building bonds with each other." Dirk stops. "Shit."

"The – " Todd chokes. "Okay, you're fucking with me. I get it. Goodbye, Dirk."

"No, wait!" For some reason, Dirk chooses to jog backwards, still keeping pace while offering the possibility to Todd's mind that maybe with some manoeuvring he might smash into a lamppost. "It's fine, Amanda is fine. That seems to be what's bothering you, isn't it? Has she sounded better to you lately?"

Todd opens his mouth – and hesitates. He remembers Amanda calling him up, more excited than he’d heard for years. "No," he says anyway, because Dirk isn't right. "And is this all some big human familiar competition over her?"

Dirk sighs, although that's really way too minor a word for what looks like his entire body rolling its eyes. How he manages that while still going backwards, Todd has no idea. He just knows that it makes his eyes hurt. "Will you please just let go of the idea that I'm interested in your sister? If anything, I'm interested in you!"

The decision to stop bypasses Todd's brain entirely. It's only when Dirk is suddenly several feet away that he realises anything's changed. His mind is still catching up when Dirk quite visibly switches gears and heads back to stand in front of him.

"Todd?" Parody of a person that he is, Dirk actually waves his hand in front of Todd's face. "Todd, it's not that I need you to start walking again, per se, but I would appreciate some sign that you haven't astral projected or had your body temporarily possessed by an extremely lazy ghost."

"What?" Todd croaks, since that seems a fairly safe default. Then, incredulous, "Why would you be interested in me?"

"Ah." Dirk makes several gestures in the air, aborted starts of speeches Todd thinks, and he hates that he can even judge what that sort of vague handwaving even could mean. "Yes, I see how that would alarm you. 'Interested' – I suppose it's a very _evocative_ term, isn't it? Implies all sorts of things. That would be a problem, wouldn't it?" He laughs exactly once, apparently deciding when the first strangled syllable comes out that it's a bad idea. "The point is, Todd, that the reason Farah seems quite so interested in why I found myself in your apartment – "

"You climbed in through the window," Todd says for what feels like the millionth time.

" – not to mention my own investigations, is that all the signs so far point to a certain level of investment by the universe in bringing the two of us together. Purely in a professional sense, obviously."

Hopelessly, Todd raises his eyebrows. This... None of this makes any sense. "'Obviously'," he echoes faintly. Then he clenches his fists, breathing in deeply. "No. Wait. That's impossible."

"Improbable, perhaps, but then then universe does rather enjoy those million-to-one chances," Dirk says in a way that brings to mind commiserating in a bar rather than spinning Todd's world around repeatedly and very aggressively. "Trust me, I am just as surprised as you about this."

Todd says, "I seriously doubt that.”

"My first instinct," Dirk goes on, as if Todd hadn’t said anything, "was frankly to get in a car and keep driving until I ran out of America."

"What stopped you?"

Dirk pouts. "None of the cars would start."

A memory of a bruise throbs. "You hit me with one, though."

"Yes, once I decided I wouldn't attempt to traverse what is frankly a quite ridiculously-sized country." Dirk sighs theatrically. "Honestly, you Americans certainly seem to think you have a lot to compensate for. Anyway, then I thought I would investigate further, and well, here we are!"

Todd asks, "Then why do you keep screaming?"

"Hmm?"

"Usually by this point you've gone all high-pitched and you've jumped out a window or a door," Todd points out, his voice slow like he's forcing this out through molasses or honey or concrete. "This doesn't make any sense."

Dirk's shoulders slump. "Honestly?" he asks. "I had a think after you stormed out of the café – strictly speaking, Farah told me to have a think, but she usually gives decent advice – and I thought...why not?"

The words hang there in the air. Todd can see them so clearly, as if they’re the ones cut out of neon and not the sign in the store opposite saying 'Buy one pumpkin, get a half-price cat'.

"'Why not'," Todd repeats, without the question mark. That’s more effort than he can manage.

Dirk shrugs. "At this point the universe has more than amply proved that it's willing to be incredibly unsubtle about shoving us together. There's nothing to say this has to be official, but giving you're already drawing off of me for spells – "

"I'm _what_ "

" – I thought, well, maybe this is the clue I need to save Lydia Spring, or you're the solution to her curse, or you know how to find her. Regardless, the longer I spend trying to object, the less progress I'm making."

"You know that sort of makes you sound like a sociopath." It doesn't, not entirely, except frankly Todd's coming up a little short on insults. He feels sick. "I can't help you, you know."

"Don't be ridiculous," Dirk says. "Why else would you be here? Oh, maybe you'll have a vision? Or...have had a vision." He peers closely at Todd. "I don't suppose you've ever dreamt about a corgi?"

Todd can safely say that he has never dreamt about corgis. That's not the issue though. "Dirk, I seriously can't help you."

"No matter, I'm sure it'll come to you."

" _Dirk_." Todd's fists clench. "I don't have visions."

"Not anymore, I know," Dirk says, so casually, like this isn't slowly ripping something up out of Todd's throat. Fuck, he can actually feel it there, lurking somewhere in his windpipe. At this rate, he isn't going to be able to breathe. "But maybe that's why you need me? Familiars can unlock all sorts of magic – I mean, just take a look at everything you sent flying off the shelves back at the shop, although don't, actually, they might not be all that pleased to see you."

"I never had visions."

"In fact, you might not want to – Sorry?"

It feels like throwing up. Like he's taken every bad drug; downed every bottle of shitty moonshine. Maybe he really is cursed. "I never had visions," Todd says. "I lied. I wanted to be special, and I didn't want to do any work, and I got the coven to support me through going to college when I was actually forming a band, and then Amanda started having them for real and I couldn't tell the truth because then everyone would think I brought bad luck."

Dirk stares at him. Must be tough enough, coming to terms with the fact you're stuck with a witch against your own wishes, without finding out you've decided to go with a scumbag.

" I'm barely a witch," Todd spits out. "I don't do any magic anymore. I don't do fortunes or spells. I'm a bellboy." He holds his hands out to the sides. "So yeah. You want to be free, go for it. You don't want to be messed up with me."

Dirk says, "Do people usually listen to you?"

A car zooms past, blasting out pulsing booming music. It's followed by a police car, lights flashing. Todd doesn't look away from Dirk. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just wondering," Dirk says, and he does have a pretty speculative look on his face that brings to mind crosswords and conspiracy memes, "you tell me what to think rather a lot, so either there's something about me that suggests I'm very open to suggestions – which, yes, absolutely, but only if they're the sort of suggestions which seem helpful rather than wallowing in self-deprecation – or you do this with everyone. If that's the case, then, does it usually have the effect you want? Do people listen to you?"

Todd splutters. "The fuck?"

"Hmm." Dirk pushes his lips together. "I'm afraid that's not a convincing argument at all. Hence I see no reason why I should do what you tell me to do. Besides, there is the matter of pride. I have always made a point of not taking witches' orders unless there's a case involved, and I don't see why I should make an exception for you when you don't offer any sort of evidence to back up your claims."

It means something, the fact that Dirk is doing the word fountain thing again. Todd just can't quite process what, though. "I...literally just told you I lied to my coven and my family. I'm still lying to Amanda. You don't think that's evidence?"

"I certainly think it's evidence that you've made some quite frankly terrible choices in your life," Dirk says, and despite the looming 'but' Todd relaxes just a bit because at least that part sounds like it's coming from a rational human being, "but," there it is, "I don't see how that therefore means that I must avoid you at all costs."

Todd holds up his hands, as if he can take hold of the words and force them to make sense. "It's pretty obvious," he says. How does he have to explain this? How does Dirk need it explaining? What kind of a life leaves someone like that? "I've been an asshole in the past. So I'll be an asshole in the future. And I've put so much shit out into the world, when it turns around and hits me tenfold, you don't want to be anywhere near me."

"So you believe that you'll inevitably be a bad person, yet you also believe you'll suffer consequences and that you want to protect me from said consequences?" Dirk squints, like he's reading that sentence back over Todd's head. "That seems rife with contradictions, if you don't mind me saying."

"Now you care about what I mind?" Todd asks. "What happened to stalking me and forcing your way into my life? Wait." Oh, that's a really bad thought. He lowers his voice, trying to sound sympathetic and resigning himself to smashing through to patronising. "Is this a familiar thing?"

Dirk looks at him. "Todd," he says, his voice suddenly surprisingly firm, "I will let that go, _again_ , but I strongly suggest you stop asking me that."

Well, that was...much more of a reaction than Todd was expecting. "Why? Is it true?"

"It's not unlike asking Amanda whether her visions are a 'girl thing'." Dirk waggles his fingers up and down in the air. "Trust that this has been considered and investigated just as much as your self-declared sins, and let's draw a line under all of it and move on, shall we?"

"Move on?"

"Well, you seem to think you'll receive some sort of punishment, and you recognise you did something bad because that's why you'll be punished. What else is there?"

There's a ringing sound in Todd's ears that has nothing to do with the partiers approaching them, not even when they shove past the two of them. Dirk is unmoved. Surprisingly, so is Todd. "'What else is there'?" he echoes, dumbfounded.

"I'm glad you asked," Dirk says. He strikes a pose, outlined by a truly enormous pumpkin in the store’s window, and Todd can only watch the performance.

"Now, as you know, Patrick Spring has been murdered, and hired me to solve his own murder. Intriguing stuff, I'm sure you'll agree. Beforehand, however, his daughter vanished, and then reappeared cursed – yes, _cursed_ – before that body vanished as well. I have strong reason to believe that a corgi is involved – either because it is Lydia or it knows where Lydia is, the details are a little bit sketchy there. Also, there seems to be a cult – which I realise is rather insulting to witches, only from what I've had shot at me it's more insulting to you to call them a coven – and this cult wanted something from Patrick Spring, something _Magical_ , in both a beautiful fantastical way and also a very horrifying one. Now, in the course of my investigations, I have encountered evidence of a Wiccan rock icon, a zoo (none of the animals are familiars, I checked), not to mention, well, you. So!" Dirk claps his hands together and beams. "It seems to me that we have an awful lot more to find if we keep on looking!"

Todd asks, slowly, "Did you make all that up?" He does not expect to be right.

"Not a bit – well, some of the cult stuff is more speculation, that's a bit of a dangling thread although I admit I have been avoiding pursuing it thoroughly what with the amount of death they keep threatening."

Todd nods, because he might well be fucked but this is all making sense now. "Right. This is it. This is the karma."

"That's a little rude." Todd raises his eyebrows and Dirk says, "However, I suppose I did just mention death rather a lot."

"I guess we're both quite the catch," Todd says wryly. Then his brain catches up with how flirtatious that sounded and he wants to die for a whole different reason. "But we're not a pair. Officially. In, like, the familiar/witch sense?"

"Oh, no," Dirk says, although with less conviction than Todd knows he's capable of. "You’d be more like my assistant. Possibly a ward, if you prove yourself. Regardless of your eventual title, this is a professional partnership. That's all."

"That's all." Todd nods, not entirely sure what he's agreeing to exactly, just knowing that Dirk's nodding and it turns out that's sort of infectious.

Then he says, "Shit, Amanda!"

Dirk blinks. "What?"

Todd is pulling his phone out of his pocket as he says, "I have to tell her, she keeps asking after you, so I might as well say something." He frowns as he picks out her number at the top of his contacts. "Not sure how I'm going to phrase it though, without mentioning the karma thing."

"Still rude," Dirk says, but Todd already has his phone to his ear so all he really hears is the line ringing.

Usually, if he calls Amanda, she picks up almost right away. He frowns as the ringing stretches out, trying not to panic. It takes a lot more effort as the seconds begin to pull away from him.

Finally, he hears, "Yeah?"

Not the friendliest of answers. She must be having a bad day. "Amanda, you'll never guess what happened."

"Did you meet Dirk?"

Her voice sounds so flat. Todd remembers her practically squealing with happiness at the very idea of Dirk falling through a window into Todd's life. "I – Yeah, I did, actually. Are you okay?" He looks up and Dirk is frowning too.

"Depends." What's going on? Is she in trouble? "He ask you to be his assistant?"

"I – Sort of?" Dirk's eyes look so concerned. Forget the whole yelling thing: Todd finds himself just focusing on those eyes. Grounding himself. "I mean, we're still negotiating it, but – "

"Maybe a ward, if you do well," Amanda interrupts. "Not the familiar/witch thing. 'A professional partnership'," she quotes, her voice twisted, alien.

It feels like drowning. That rushing sound: it could be traffic, it could be screaming, it could be water, it could be something returning to him tenfold. 

"Karma's a bitch, dude."

Todd's world inverts.


End file.
